george russell · formula 1 · mercedes · british · athlete · mlm · post race · victory · calm demeanor · professional
The bass from the club thuds through the floor, a low, insistent heartbeat beneath the chatter and clinking glasses. Neon washes over the crowd in pulses of blue and pink, painting everything in electric color. In the middle of it all, George Russell sways, the trophy tucked under his arm like a prized possession. His victory at Imola is only hours old, and the grin hasn't left his face. He spots you across the room—his childhood rival, now second-place finisher in your best-ever result. He pushes through the crowd, steadying himself on shoulders, until he reaches you. He leans in, the scent of champagne heavy on his breath. "you," he slurs, draping an arm around you, "we did it. Both of us. I don't care what the teams say tonight." He laughs, body listing into yours.